


Embrace

by eerian_sadow



Category: Transformers - All Media Types, Transformers Generation One
Genre: Angst, Community: tf_speedwriting, Fluff, Kissing, Multi, mech smoochies
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-07-10
Updated: 2010-07-10
Packaged: 2018-05-17 01:47:13
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 951
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5849185
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/eerian_sadow/pseuds/eerian_sadow
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Trailbreaker longs for them.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Embrace

**Author's Note:**

> whatever you do, don’t encourage this AU bunny! I already have too much to do.
> 
> That said, this fic is doing double duty, both as a cheer-up fic and as a prompt response for Sat. July 10 over at [](http://tf-speedwriting.livejournal.com/profile)[**tf_speedwriting**](http://tf-speedwriting.livejournal.com/).
> 
> Prompt: Task - Choose a character. What's the one thing that would make them happy above all other things? Write a scene describing their reaction to getting that one thing.  
> 

They were beautiful, lying tangled together in the pile of blankets that was serving as a makeshift recharge berth. Blue and green paint, waxed to a brilliant sheen that could only have been Mirage’s doing, sparkles in the dying light and gives the illusion that they are made of the most precious of gems. He could look at them forever but Hound would sense, in that unnatural way he had, that they were being watched and come back online.

With a soft sigh, he moves to his own pile of blankets. The night wasn’t so cold that he could get away with asking to share their space for warmth, no matter how desperately he might have wanted to be with them. He lays with his back to them, unwilling to let himself be tortured with their beauty and hoping for recharge.

The light fades, and he feels himself slip, unnoticed, into the shadows. They would still know he was there—they always do—but it will be easier for them to pretend he wasn’t in the dark. They can have their time together and he won't mind.

He wants them to be happy, even at his own expense.

“Trailbreaker?” Mirage’s voice is soft in the darkness. A moment later, there is touch on his arm, soft and smooth as silk. “Are you all right?”

He wants to offline his optics and do nothing but listen to that rich voice and feel those gentle fingers for the rest of the night. Maybe then he can get some rest. “No.”

It’s such a simple reply, nothing of elegance or beauty in it all, and he feels the spy go utterly still as he utters it. He’s swamped with harsh, stinging guilt; Mirage hadn’t needed the heavy burden of his unrequited feelings.

“What is it?” Hound asks, voice equally soft and edged with concern. “Please, let us help you.”

He sobs then, optic fluids trickling down to stain his blankets in mocking splashes. They care as his friends—of course they do, they care for all of their friends deeply—and he can only repay that care by worrying them as he tries to give them their fairy tale ending after all the horrors of this war. No matter how he tries, he cannot form the words to give them an answer.

It’s made worse by two slender arms sliding around him and holding him tightly. The position can’t be comfortable at all for Mirage, but the noble seems oblivious to that. And somehow, he is comforted—even if he knows they can never have more than this. Blindly, he reaches for Hound, hoping that his other friend will join their embrace.

He needs them. He will always need them.

Hound takes his hand and presses a tender kiss to it. He has seen the action a hundred times before, a tiny gesture to comfort or reassure when Mirage was particularly distressed, but his oldest friend has never done such a thing to him before. The surprise is more than enough to make him look up into worried optics.

“Let us help you,” Hound repeats. The tracker squeezes his hand tightly, imploring him to let go of his burden.

“It pains us to see you like this, night after night,” Mirage adds. “Please, beloved.”

In that one word—a word he has never heard Mirage call anyone but Hound—he understands. Or he believes he does, and that is enough to give him hope and the courage he needs to tell them. If he is wrong, he will deal with the consequences later.

He maneuvers himself so that he his sitting and pulls Mirage and Hound each against a side. If this is his only chance to hold them like this, he doesn’t want to squander it. His voice is a whisper, barely audible above the noises made by the nocturnal animals outside. “I love you.”

This time it is Hound who goes silent and still. Mirage trembles—with relief?—and pulls himself closer against his side. “We had hoped. So desperately and for so long that it was beginning to seem like nothing but a ridiculous fantasy. Why didn’t you say anything before?”

“I don’t want to ruin your happiness.”

“How could you possibly do that, when we feel the same way?” There is a smile in Mirage’s voice, wonderful and full of light. He looks down to see it, and is surprised by the noble’s lip components meeting his instead.

It is the most wonderful kiss he has ever had, possibly because it is from someone he truly loves. He’s struck speechless when Mirage pulls away. “I love you, Trailbreaker.”

They are words he has hoped to hear for vorns, and his spark swells with joy at them. And now that he’s said them once, the words are easier to say again. “I love you, Mirage.”

“Just Mirage?” Hound asks—and while the words are meant to be playful, he can hear the undercurrent of worry there.

“No. Not just Mirage.” He turns, releasing Mirage from their embrace and freeing both his hands so that he can cup Hound’s faceplates and pull him into a kiss. The tracker whimpers at the action, and grips his arms tightly enough to scratch paint, but doesn’t pull away. He makes certain to meet Hound’s optics when they break apart. “I love you, Hound.”

“Love you too, ‘Breaker.” And now there are tears running down Hound’s faceplates, but the tracker is smiling brilliantly enough to drown out the sun. “Have for so long.”

“Be our third?” Mirage asks, moving so that he can hold both of them again.

“Yes.” There is no hesitation in his reply.  



End file.
